Filled with Memories
by HecateA
Summary: The chances that Ted Tonks would get a single minute, much less a life, with Andromeda Black were very thin. He intends to leave proof and evidence that these memories and this joy are real. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment 6, Notable Witches and Wizards, Task #6

**Warnings: **Loss; grief

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Ted Tonks/Andromeda Black Tonks

**List (Prompt): **Fall Big List (Photo Album)

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Terms of Services; Shower of Words

**Individual Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC (x2); Slytherin MC; Bow Before the Blacks; Seeds; Baby Mine; Old Shoes; Themes & Things A (family); Themes & Things B (Loneliness); Themes & Things C (photograph); True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; Real Family; Tiny Terror; Short Jog; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux; Golden Times

**Representation(s): **Position in the medical field; birthday

**Bonus challenge(s): **Nightingale; Mouth of Babes; Delicious Lie; Second Verse (Nontraditional); Chorus (Odd Feathers)

**Tertiary bonus challenge: **NA

**Word Count: **15977

* * *

**Filled with Memories **

We keep this love in a photograph

We made these memories for ourselves

Where our eyes are never closing

Hearts are never broken

And time's forever frozen still

So you can keep me

Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans

Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet

You won't ever be alone, wait for me to come home

-_Photograph, _Ed Sheeran

Ted crawled into bed with Andromeda and slid a hand around her waist. She quietly shut the book she'd been reading and flopped onto her back, looking up at him with a smile on her face and her curls splayed out over their pillows… it was hard to focus.

"What were you reading?" he asked.

"Nothing," Andromeda smiled.

"What were you looking at, if you weren't reading?" he asked.

Andromeda paused and contemplated this with an unusual stillness—the perfect poise of someone who had had to lie quite a bit.

"You can tell me," Ted said. "Whatever it is. I promise."

"You already know," she guessed.

"We should talk about it," Ted said, trying to sound encouraging. He flopped down on his side of the bed so he wasn't looming over her, waiting. After giving it a tad more thought she showed him the leatherbound black book she'd been holding. When she flipped it open, he saw black and white photos tacked on yellowed pages of parchments. All of them showed the Black family, across a dozen years and a myriad of occasions.

"It's my sister's birthday today," Andromeda said.

"Narcissa or Bellatrix?" Ted asked.

"Both," Andromeda said. "They share the same birthday. I was always the odd one out."

She bit her lip, probably as she realised (like Ted did) how much truer this had become since their elopement.

"I miss them sometimes," Andromeda admitted. "Especially on days like this. It doesn't make sense but I do—even if I don't want to, even if I know better, even if I never, not for a second, regretted my choice…"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Ted said. He kissed her forehead. "Can I look too? Do I get to see baby pictures of you?"

"Why would you want to see those?" Andromeda laughed. "I'm much prettier now."

But she did let him snuggle up against her and she showed him the photos across the album.

* * *

"One month," Andromeda said, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back.

They'd been on opposite schedules at St. Mungo's for the last week—which was awful. Ted had stumbled in from his night shift that morning (smelling like pus from an infected brownie bite, no less) just as Andromeda bolted out the door with a piece of toast in hand. But now they were together, wearing their soft sleeping clothes and pouring them wine. Thankfully the Head Healer had a bleeding heart for their romantic cause, and they'd managed to both get the night off to celebrate their one month anniversary. Of course, Andromeda's shift had run late, but they had wine before them now.

"Oh, I know," Ted said. "Obviously, you haven't sat at your chair since getting home…"

"No," Andromeda said carefully. She let go of him tentatively and he peeked over his shoulder as she made her way to their rickety old kitchen table to look at her chair. He joined her, putting the wine glasses down as she unwrapped the gift so carefully they may reuse the wrapping paper.

When she unwrapped her gift, she turned the empty photo album in her hands.

"It's a Muggle one," Ted explained quickly. "See, it's got these metal binder rings and plastic sheets to slip the pictures in, so you don't get fingerprints on them… I didn't have time to go to Diagon Alley to get another one…"

"No, not another one," Andromeda said. She looked up at him and smiled. "Not until we fill this one, at least. With our own memories."

* * *

It seemed right that the first thing that went in that photo album was a picture from their wedding day. Then there were pictures from their apple-picking adventures (Andromeda's first time going), their first Chanukah, the graduation ceremony that marked the end of their apprenticeships at St. Mungo's, his little sister's tenth birthday, a belated honeymoon they took to Amsterdam… but really, they should have saved a place of honour for the first picture they took of Dora—so that she was front and center in the pages, instead of buried in the middle as if she wasn't the most important thing that had ever happened.

"We're burying the lede," Ted complained, running his fingers up and down the baby's back. She was laying on Andromeda's chest, and Andromeda herself seemed to be doing her best to become one with the mattress and pillows that made up her bed.

"Don't act as if we aren't going to fill hundreds upon hundreds of albums with her pictures," Andromeda said sleepily, just before she dozed off. "This is only the beginning."

* * *

Andromeda waved him off, whenever he complained about how hard it was to take a half decent picture of their ebullient, ever-changing little girl.

"She's like a shark," Ted insisted. "Constant motion, she never stops..."

"Oh, don't complain," Andromeda said as she looked over her latest case files from the hospital, sitting on the steps of the back porch. "Go run after her—she's playing the pirate king game today and since I'm a mermaid in that universe, I'm not allowed to jump in until she sails her ship back to my ocean…"

"ARGH!" he heard in confirmation.

Dora was climbing up the rope they'd tied to the big oak tree in the backyard which, at the moment, was probably playing the role of a pirate ship. She spent so much time in that tree, he should maybe start thinking about building her a treehouse.

"I'm the biggest shark in the whole ocean!" Ted cried, setting down the camera and running towards her. Dora squealed and jumped off the rope, taking off in the opposite direction.

* * *

"Dad, stop," Dora said as he snapped photos on Platform 9 3⁄4. The blushing was really clashing with the shade of canary yellow she'd picked for her hair after careful consideration that morning. She said it'd help her get into Hufflepuff.

"What?" Ted asked, lowering the camera. "Tons of other parents are taking pictures…"

"No, they aren't," Dora said.

"Maybe it's because they don't have photo albums to fill, but we're on a mission and my favourite subject's about to run away for a year," Ted said, lowering the electronic and leaving it hanging around his neck.

"Until Christmas," Dora said.

"Christmas, right," Ted said. "Now come here, I need to give you four months of hugs…"

* * *

"It's like she slipped through our fingers and into Auror robes," Andromeda whispered to him at the ceremony, while they were supposed to be listening to some speech the Minister was making. Even if Dora was the only Auror being inaugurated that day, it had still drawn a rather big group.

"Nah," Ted said. "She grew up. She worked hard. We supervised and watched her do it all. Trust me; I have the photographic evidence."

* * *

It was somewhat reassuring to Ted that Remus Lupin seemed to have no idea what to do with him, because Ted had no idea what to do with Remus Lupin. The man his daughter had dragged in seemed shy but proper, neat but tired, and too quiet for the pink hair and cat-like amber eyes his daughter was sporting. But there had to be something there, there had to be. Dora was a smart girl…

"Do you want to see baby pictures of Dora?" Ted offered. It came out as a blurt, as if it was the first thing he'd ever said in the world.

Remus grinned. "Oh, do I ever…"

"Dad, he's been here ten minutes."

"Well, if he's going to stick around, your father's got to start going through the albums now if he's ever going to see it all," Andromeda chimed in helpfully. "And I hope you're not wasting our time by bringing in one you don't think will stick."

She made eye contact with Ted across the room, that mischievous Slytherin glint in her eyes shining. Ted loved that glint now as much as he'd loved it the first time he'd seen it.

"_Mother." _

* * *

"I can help dry," Dora offered, popping into the kitchen where he was doing dishes while Andromeda put away the leftovers.

"I thought you were helping Remus with the boggart in the basement," Andromeda said.

"He doesn't need me for that, he's really good at it," Dora said.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I've got the tea towels drying on their own," Ted said.

Dora nodded and stood quietly in the doorway. Her fists were clenched in determination, which drew Andromeda's eye to her wedding ring.

"I know it's a shock," she said.

"Mmm," Andromeda said quietly.

"I _know," _Dora repeated. "But it… I can't explain it, it just had to happen. You two get it, right?"

"We _had _to do what we did," Andromeda said.

"So did we, there's a bloody war outside and the Ministry—"

Dora sighed. Then she reached into her back pocket and took out a small slip, folded in two.

"We took lots of pictures when we got married," she said, offering it like an olive branch. "So that even if you weren't there, you'd see…"

* * *

"You're going to miss so much," Dora said quietly against his chest as he hugged her goodbye… well, goodbye for now. This nonsense wouldn't last long, it just couldn't. He wasn't going to have to hide long; he'd come back soon. Andromeda knew it, which was why she hadn't hugged Ted quite as strongly as her daughter was. She and Ted, they didn't say goodbye. They ran away together. They dragged each other across the world when it shifted under their feet.

"I won't miss a thing," Ted said, patting Dora's back. "And if I _am _still away when my grandbaby is born, you'll take lots of pictures for me, won't you?"

"Yeah," Dora said quietly. "From every angle."

* * *

Dora crept into the baby's room, clutching the big photo album Mum had given her that morning.

"I suppose your father knew the risks more acutely than we did, after all," Mum had said sadly as she'd handed over the gift that morning. "He'd said that one of us should give you this, and I hoped it'd be him…"

Dora shook the thoughts out of her head and sat on the rocking chair by Teddy's crib, clutching the photo album to her chest.

Its pages were empty, for now. She'd told Remus to go get the film developed soon, that way they could show the Weasleys some pictures and start filling the photo album wrapped in her arms.

Dad had left a note inside, against the cover in his messy handwriting. _Your mother and I defeated all the odds to make the memories we did. I regret nothing that led me to her, to you, to Remus, to the baby. I wish you smoother seas and much love as you make your own and slip them in these pages. _

Teddy, at the moment, was mercifully asleep and not doing anything interesting enough to warrant a photograph. Still, there was something quite extraordinary about the fact that he was there and that he was real… that blew Dora's mind, even if she'd known about him through kicks and food cravings and pirouettes and waves of nausea for months now.

She resisted touching him, lest she wake him (and the whole household) up. She ran her fingers across the bars of his crib.

"Don't worry," she said quietly. "If they managed to do it, we'll fill these pages with memories too."


End file.
